Behind the Dress
by VanillaMostly
Summary: Barely even friends, then somebody bends... Gale starts to see there IS a person behind the pretty dress. Canon-compliant Gadge
1. 1

**Behind the Dress**

The development of Gale and Madge's relationship from strangers to...? from Gale's eyes.

* * *

**A/N: I know there's been a million of these out there but since I'm so obsessed with this pairing, I had to write my own version. Hopefully it's not too drawn out.**

**1**

Mrs. Everdeen answers the door, and immediately I notice how tired and sad she looks. Can't blame her. In fact, I'm impressed at how she's holding up. At least her eyes aren't pale and lifeless, like I was afraid of seeing.

"Hi," she says, offering a faint smile. She sees what I'm holding and nods, stepping back. "Thank you so much for this."

"It's no problem." Inside the house it smells nice. She's cooking something with potatoes. How ironic is it that when Catnip needed her, she couldn't... I try not to think of that. It's not Mrs. Everdeen's fault she's not as strong as my mom. Rarely anyone is.

"Gale! You're here!"

Two skinny arms are squeezing my waist. "Hey," I laugh, untangling myself from Prim's hug. "How's the - "

Whatever I'm about to say runs straight out of my head when I see who's behind Prim.

"Madge is doing my hair," says Prim, beaming. "See? She said I can even have her ribbons!"

I should be grateful that Prim's looking happier than she's had in days, but I'm not. I think Prim senses this because she stops twirling and grabs Undersee's hand almost protectively. "I asked her to come today," Prim says. "She looked lonely walking around the square all by herself."

"I wanted some fresh air," says Undersee, too quickly to fool anyone. There's a brief silence where we just stood around staring at each other before Mrs. Everdeen enters the room carrying a teapot. "Would you like something to drink, Gale? You too, Madge?"

"I should go," I say, the same time Undersee says, "Thank you, but-"

"Stay!" interrupts Prim, tugging at both of our arms. "Just for a little while. Please?" Her lower lip trembles. How can I say no to that? Especially when I can guess why she's so desperate for me to stay. Tonight they're showing the training scores of the tributes.

Unfortunately, Undersee's included in Prim's invitation and she can't say no either. She sits down across the table, pointedly ignoring me, which I am only too glad to reciprocate. Mrs. Everdeen pours us some tea and at first it's a little awkward, with Prim the only one who's chattery, but then Mrs. Everdeen asks me about my mother and conversation flows from there. Undersee stays quiet, just sipping her tea, which is more than fine with me. She can stop pretending she belongs here anyway. This room's got to be the size of her bathroom.

Mrs. Everdeen is in the middle of advising me what I can do for my mother's back pain, when I remember. "If you need anything for the apothecary, I can get it for you," I tell her.

"Really?" When Mrs. Everdeen smiles she looks a lot younger. "Thank you again, Gale. You're doing so much for us."

"No, don't mention it. I did promise Katniss I'd..."

I feel like hitting myself. The light goes right out of Prim's eyes and her shoulders sag so easily it's like she's made of paper. Mrs. Everdeen puts her cup down and then picks it up again, as if unsure of what to do with her hands. Great. Trust me to put a damper on the party.

"Do... you think she'll be alright?" Prim whispers, blinking away tears.

I wrap my fingers around her small hand. "Of course," I say firmly. "She's coming home. I know it."

Prim and Mrs. Everdeen look reassured by my words and eventually start to describe Lady the family goat's recent escapade into the neighbor's yard. I nod and smile at the right places, but I'm not really listening. _She's coming home. Catnip is coming home. _I repeat that to myself ten times, but it doesn't help, not when I keep seeing in my head the images of the other tributes, especially the Careers who are twice her size and a million times more experienced, armed with knives and spears. No matter how hard I swallow, I can't get rid of the knot in my stomach.

"Uh, listen," says a new voice, givinig me a start. I forgot Undersee was still there."It's been really fun, Prim, and thanks for having me Mrs. Everdeen. But it's getting late, and my father will be..."

"Oh, yes," nods Mrs. Everdeen. "How silly, I've lost track of time."

"Will you come over again, Madge?" asks Prim.

"Anytime you want," she smiles. Her nice act makes me sick.

"Hold on, I have something to give you," says Mrs. Everdeen, standing up. Undersee looks just as puzzled as I feel and for a second our eyes meet again. Mrs. Everdeen sounds like she's in the kitchen when she calls out, "Prim, do something about Buttercup. She's scratching at the table again."

"That's because Buttercup's hungry," Prim says on her way out.

Which leaves me and Undersee. Awkwardly, needless to say.

I turn my attention to the television, but instantly regret it because some stupid analysts are giving commentary on who they think will win the Games. An image of the guy from District 2 flashes onto the screen and I'm gripped by an urge to throw the remote against the screen.

"Hey," Undersee says, so quietly I almost don't hear her. "Katniss is strong. Not just physically - well, she's strong that way too. But her _heart_ is strong. Don't underestimate her, she really will be alright."

"I know," I scowl.

She leans back and her face is cool. "Do you, though?"

Mrs. Everdeen returns at that moment, a small bag in her hands, and Undersee has to get up. They exchange pleasantries at the door, Mrs. Everdeen saying something about herbs for Mrs. Undersee's headaches. Add in Prim who arrives holding Buttercup and it takes another five minutes for the goodbyes to wrap up. At last, the door opens and I hear Undersee stepping out.

Prim comes back and I can tell she's eyeing me funny, probably dying to ask why I have something against her special guest, but then the anthem blares from the television, signaling the start of the training-score segment.

"What if Katniss doesn't..." Prim sounds too worried to finish her train of thought.

"You'll see," I tell her. "She's strong. Don't underestimate your sister."

It takes me a moment to realize I'm quoting Undersee. Damn.


	2. 2

**2**

It takes one look at the large-screen display they've got set up facing all the tables, playing the pre-Game celebration from the Capitol, then another look at all the people pretending they're not sneaking sideway glances at me, to take away my appetite. Just like that.

"Dude, where're you going?" asks Thom, in the middle of opening his lunch bag.

"Toilet," I lie.

Outside in the open air I feel a little better, but this doesn't last. A group of girls are heading this way, no one I recognize but of course they all recognize me, and they don't even try to hide their whispering. I know very well what they're saying, though. I've been hearing that stuff all morning. _Wasn't he her boyfriend? No, I don't think they were dating. Do you think he knew about Peeta Mellark? _I walk in the opposite direction until I come to the dumpsters in the back of the school. Not a soul in sight. Ah, heaven. Even if it smells like rotten fruit.

Except God can't even give me this. "What are you looking at?" I say, not very nicely. I'm not trying to be nice.

From the corner of my eye I see her slow to a stop a couple steps away. Judging by her hair color and height, I have a good idea who it is. Wonderful. Like my day hasn't been perfect enough already. "I saw you going this way, so..." Her voice trails off and she shifts her weight awkwardly. "Are you alright?"

The fact that she's asking me this when I'm not in the mood to discuss my _feelings_ right now, and certainly not with Princess Miss Undersee, irks the hell out of me. "None of your business."

Part of me is aware what a prick I'm being. Can almost hear Katniss's voice in my head. _Gale, can't you be nice? It's not her fault. _Katniss. My Catnip. Today's the first day of the Games. The day the bloodbath starts.

It's like I swallowed something bitter and burning down my throat. I catch Undersee's eyes, which are on me, and the words are out of my mouth again, all of that burning bitterness pouring out with it. "Shouldn't you be somewhere combing your hair? Polishing your shoes?"

She just looks at me. Her blue eyes are nothing like Catnip's, but they're like the other guy's. Shit. That nasty feeling on my throat is back again. I turn away from her and concentrate on grinding the cigarette butts on the ground into the dirt. Wait for her to storm out, angry, or maybe in tears.

She doesn't leave. Instead she speaks, but she doesn't sound pissed. Calm and mild, like she's commenting on the weather. "You hate me."

The way she said it, not as a question but like stating a fact, throws me off a bit. I glance at her, but her face gives away nothing. But what does she want me to say, really? Mrs. Everdeen and Prim may have accepted her with open arms but that doesn't mean I have to do the same. She may have been friends with Catnip but that doesn't make her my friend by default. _It's_ _not her fault_, I hear Catnip's voice in my head again.

"Well," I just say, feeling the need to correct her somehow, even though what she said is true. "I don't like you."

A smile seems to be tugging at the corner of her lips. Although I don't see why what I said is funny. "Well," she repeats smoothly, "I don't like you either." She takes a step closer, head held high. "But it's better to tolerate each other, at the very least. Don't you think?"

She holds out her hand, back straight like a diplomat. I see she's not lacking the mayor's genes. "For Katniss's sake," she adds.

_Katniss's sake._ I look at that hand, offered up to me, slender fingers, pink, clean nails. This is the hand of someone who's never done any real work in their lives. I don't feel very much like touching that hand with my callused, scratch-covered one.

That's what I'm thinking until I see Undersee's expression. She's smiling, but it's not a bright, yay-let's-be-friends smile. It's more like a smirk, like ha-I-knew-you-couldn't-do-it. To prove her wrong, I take her hand and I shake it. Undersee's grip is surprisingly strong.


	3. 3

**3**

When I enter the Hob to do my weekly trading, guess who I see talking to Greasy Sae? My first instinct is Undersee's stalking me, but then that wouldn't make sense because she's been standing here longer than I have.

"Undersee," I mutter. "You're kidding me."

She juts her chin defiantly. "There's no law that says I can't be here. Right, Sae?"

Greasy Sae glances at me. She actually seems amused. "There isn't, girlie, but if your father sees you here there might be one."

"Yeah, well..."

I don't wait for Undersee to think of a comeback. "What the hell are you doing?" I say, dragging her toward the exit. She's still waving bye at Greasy Sae.

"Dropping off some money," she says, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. I still can't get used to it. The mayor's daughter, wearing a ratty old jacket with the hood pulled over her head. A _man's _jacket. "Sae gave it to me for camouflage," she explains, noticing my gaze. "She told me I stick out like a sore thumb too much. Distracting her customers."

"What do you mean?"

"Customers," says Undersee slowly. "They're the people who come to buy things at - "

"The _money_." I narrow my eyes, but she just blinks at me, unfazed. "What do you mean dropping it off?"

"Oh, that," shrugs Undersee. "It's for, you know, Katniss and Peeta. At the Games."

It takes a while for me to process this. "You mean the donations Greasy Sae's collecting?"

"I've been dropping it off after school," she said. We side-step a burly man chewing tobacco who actually nods a greeting to Undersee before he enters the Hob. "People in town are kind of scared of this place, they won't come here, but they'll donate as long as I deliver it for them."

"You aren't scared?"

"At first I was," she replies. "Not so much anymore. They're just people," she shrugs.

I'm still trying to absorb this information that _Madge Undersee_ has become a frequenter of the Hob when she bursts out laughing.

"Sorry," she says, covering her mouth. "You should have seen your face. Is it really that shocking?"

"Just a bit," I say grudgingly.

She smiles. "By the way, it's Madge."

"What?"

"Madge," she says. "I do have a first name, you know."

I fold my arms and look at her. She folds her arms too and stares me back, holding her ground. "Fine... Madge."

"Good job, Hawthorne." Another smile breaks onto her face. So annoying - even more annoying that I almost catch myself smiling too. "You need help?" she asks, eyeing the heavy bags I'm carrying, and everything feels so strange as she follows me back into the Hob and I don't tell her to go away.


	4. 4

**A/N: the scene of Rue's death in the movie made me cry, but what made me cry harder was actually the scenes after that showing people in the districts rebelling. I'm weird like that. **

**4**

None of us can bear to look at the screen. The silence is heavy, punctuated by Posy's muffled sobs into my mother's skirt. The sound is ripping into my heart, though I can't tell if my sister's crying is responsible or it's the memory of the little girl lying amidst the flowers. Too young to die.

It's not fucking fair.

My mother doesn't say anything as I brush past her and go out the door. I think all of them can understand why I want to be alone. They probably want it too. The walls felt too suffocating, like it's trapping us in. Reminding us this entire world has been doing that, ever since my mother was born, and her mother, and hers...

There's a light drizzle outside. Nature's pitying us too. I start to run, which is so stupid, of course. Where can I run to? Where can any one of us run to? I think of how it's only been a few weeks ago when I brought up the idea with Katniss. Even then we couldn't do it. Catnip knew it, that we're trapped forever. I guess I knew it too, but just didn't want to admit it.

I run, not caring that the rain is flying into my face. I run to the fence. The fence. One of the most obvious things they've put here to trap us. Because we're their possessions.

The woods behind the fence have always looked inviting, but today? They're like a cemetery, it's so fucking depressing. The thought that this is where Catnip and I first met, spent so much time together, and now... _if_ she comes back -

Suddenly I can't stand to be there right now, so I turn the other way and start running again. I don't even care where I'm going. What does it matter? My life is a dead end. It's always been.

By the time my legs are so weak they're ready to give out, I've reached the town. Funny. Why did I come here? Looking at the lights, muted by the rain, at the quiet, clean-paved street, it does feel kind of soothing, though.

I don't know how long I've walked when I see another silhouette, a small distance ahead of me. Whoever it is doesn't even have a sweater or umbrella on, and they're walking too slow to be heading off somewhere with a purpose.

As I walk closer, I take in the long blond hair and I almost laugh. Why do I always run into her in the weirdest places, the weirdest times?

Madge flinches and jumps a little when I tap her on the shoulder. Her eyes are red-rimmed. Silently I fall into step with her. We don't speak for a long time. There's nothing to say. The rain's let up now, but there are still a few drips now and then.

Then she sneezes just as the rain completely stopped. "Go home," I say.

She shakes her head. "I'm fine," she says, her voice thick.

I don't have a sweater on either, but I have a tank inside this shirt, so I move to take the outer one off. It's not very dry but it's at least long-sleeved. "No," Madge says, stopping me. "I'm not cold."

"You're shivering."

"I'm not," she counters. I swear, sometimes she's even more stubborn than Katniss.

"Just take it," I say, ignoring her protest as I shove my shirt at her. I don't want to add that the rain has soaked her front and the fabric's getting see-through. That'd probably make both of us pretty uncomfortable.

The street is deserted, with everyone else in their house. Even the Peacekeepers are nowhere in sight, though they're supposed to be on patrol duty to make sure there aren't stragglers like us. I appreciate that our distrcit's Peacekeepers aren't bad people, the laidback type they are, but I still work up a rage when I think of who they're serving. If they really have a conscience, how can they live like that? Doing the Capitols' dirty work in exchange, for what, a bigger paycheck? They can't honestly think they're really "keeping the peace."

"White," Madge says suddenly.

I stare at her. Has watching the Games driven her insane?

"It's the color of the Capitol," she continues, looking straight ahead of her. "You've seen from the broadcasts. The buildings are all white. And the Peacekeepers' uniforms. They're white too."

Why's she telling me this? Like I give a fuck what color the goddamn Capitol likes.

"It's supposed to represent purity," Madge says. "Innocence. To show they're a force of good, not - "

"Good, my ass," I say under my breath.

"-evil, which is what most people think of black," says Madge, speaking over me. "Brides wear white. Clean is associated with white. What a coincidence, huh, that our president is Snow?"

"Ok, what are you-"

"Did you know?" asks Madge, interrupting me yet again. She's turned her face now, watching me with her blue eyes. They're strangely dark today. "White has a forgotten meaning. A long, long time ago, in some cultures people wore white, for mourning, at the funerals. To them, white stood for death."

I search her face for one ounce of meaning, but all I see are the water droplets on her eyelashes. "So you're saying..."

She steps back and that's when I realize how close we were standing. "I'm not saying anything."

We just look at each other, and there's something about the stillness of the air. I feel calm. Calmer than I have in a long time. To know that the girl in front of me, the mayor's precious only child, thinks the same thoughts as me every night. Maybe every moment, even. She just hides it better.

Then I hear it, and the alarm flickering across Madge's face shows she does too. "I have to go," she says hastily, while in the distance we hear the yelling again. _Madge! Where are you? _"Thanks for your shirt. See you later."

She waves and then she's off, her ponytail flying behind her. The shirt in my hand still feels warm from her skin. When I put it back on, I shiver. Hope I'm not catching a cold too.


	5. 5

**A/N: I know right, just when their relationship is going great I have to do this to them. But rules are rules. I MUST stick to canon and canon says this has to happen.**

**5**

"Hey."

I don't have to look to know who it is. I want to ask what she's doing here instead of celebrating in the middle of the square, but then of course she'd want to ask me the same thing.

"Unbelievable, huh? Both of them coming home," I say. From here you can make out a couple of kids dancing and laughing, spinning in a circle. Prim might be one of them.

"Yes," says Madge.

"I'll see Katniss in a few hours."

"Yes."

"It's all over."

"Yes."

I look at her. "Is that the only word you know?"

Madge doesn't answer and just sits down on the steps beside me. "Katniss's a good actress and she's smart," she says in a low voice. "That's how she survived. I tell you, it's just an act."

"What act?" I mutter, but it's no use. She already sees through me. Am I that easy to read?

"I know Katniss. She's not the type to fall in love with someone she's only known for a month. You know Katniss too. You've known her longer than I have and way longer than Peeta has."

"Yeah? I don't feel like I do anymore."

"People don't change that fast."

"They can if they've been forced to kill twenty-something kids their age who-"

Madge shakes her head silently, and I know to shut up. It's unlikely anyone would have heard me, though, and even if they did they wouldn't have cared. Everyone's too distracted today. Awashed in relief, joy, and of course pride.

I see Madge open her mouth like she still wants to add her insight. Personally I'm tired of this subject, so I talk before she does. "Why are you dressed like that? It's not reaping day."

She obviously knows why I changed the subject, but she backs off. "Right," she says. "My dress. Well, you know how it is, me being the mayor's daughter, spoiled princess..."

I smirk. "Yeah, but this one's over the top. You heading off to the Capitol today?"

There's a pause that's too long. From her face I get the sense my joke hit closer to the mark than it should.

"You really are?"

She looks at her feet. "Not today. Sometime next month, or at least, that's what my father's hoping. It's his sister I'm meeting today, she's one of the people from the TV crew, in the district for... their return."

Her reason for saying _their _isn't lost on me but I try to focus on the other part. "Whose sister?"

"His name is apparently Thaddeus Morrick... or Morren? He does something in the financial department. He's the friend of a friend of my dad's. They've shown me a picture of him, and he seems okay, I mean his hair isn't as crazy as you'd expect someone from-"

I'm sitting up now. "Hold up. Are you talking about a blind date or something?"

"Something like that," she says, hugging her knees. "But it's more like a future husband thing."

"_What_?"

"My parents were talking about arranging someone for me," she says. "I just thought they were kidding. Apparently this one took a while to settle because people from the Capitol have high standards. It's kind of funny. When my dad sent him my picture the general opinion was I'm too boring-looking. Hence my outfit today."

I'm staring at her speechless for a few seconds. Of course it makes sense and I can't believe I have to remember just who I'm talking to here. An heir to priviledged high class can't be expected to marry like normal people. But even if that's normal for her, for her to just _say _it like it doesn't matter- "You want this, don't you."

"No," she says, pinning me with her blue eyes. "I don't want it."

"Then why don't you, I don't know, say _no_?" Vaguely I'm aware of how loud I'm speaking, of how there's this pounding sound in my ears.

Her face is impassive. "Because it's what my parents want. I can't just-"

"Your parents?" I say, cutting her off. "Here I thought you could think for yourself."

She looks at me, lips pressed together. Then she says, voice sharp, "Excuse me for asking, but, what do you care?"

That's not a question I'm expecting at all, but she doesn't wait for me to answer and plows ahead, voice rising high.

"What do you care who I marry? It has nothing to do with you! I'm not Katniss! You don't-" She falls silent suddenly.

"What does Katniss have to do with this?"

She turns away, her earrings jangling. It's the only time I've seen her wearing earrings, and now I know why. "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

There's no way she didn't just say _something_ and I'm about to make her explain what the hell she's on about when I hear the approaching footsteps. "Madge, there you are." The mayor glances curiously at me but doesn't stay interested in me for long. "Quick, come with me, Thaddeus's sister has been asking about you..."

Madge takes her father's arm and walks away without looking at me. Clearly she doesn't want to give her father wrong ideas by being seen with someone like me. Suddenly I don't feel like sitting there on the steps like some pathetic loner anymore. I get up and walk to the square, to the noise and the laughter and Posy who nearly tackles me to the ground, to my friends who high-five me and clasp my shoulder. Yes, this is better, these are my actual family and friends, not... whatever Madge is. I thought we weren't exactly strangers any more but she's made it clear that she thinks differently. And she's right, I don't care. From the beginning we had nothing to with each other, like she said. And why does anything matter, really, when Catnip is coming home? Kiss or no kiss, Mellark or no Mellark, she's escaped death and will be soon in front of me, alive in the flesh. That's all I care about. That's all.


	6. 6

**A/N: Major time skip to... now! **

**6**

"Shut up, I do not look like a cat."

"You do. At some angles, like when you're mad."

Katniss makes a face and pokes me in the shoulder. I laugh back and lean back on my palms. Most of the leaves have fallen now and they make a nice cushion to sit on instead of the rocky dirt. I finish drinking my share from the canteen and pass it to Catnip, who takes it and gulps the water down like she's always done. It's one indication that things haven't changed. That things between us are still the same.

"C'mon, Cat," I say, picking up the game we got. We've got a nice load today. "Better hurry if we want to catch Darius at the Hob. How much do you think he'll pay us for the fox pelt? Remember how he said he's been dying to have a hat made from-"

"Gale." The tone in Katniss's voice tells me enough. "Crap, I'm sorry but I forgot. I can't today, I promised-"

"It's alright," I say. "I know you're busy." I don't say any more, but she probably heard the edge in my voice already.

"It's not related to-" Katniss pauses, and I know this frustrates her, wanting to say something but can't bring it up. There's a lot of things neither of us bring up. Like her new life after winning the Games. The Games themselves. Mellark. The kiss I gave her. Us. "It's just that I told Madge yesterday I'd go over to her house and help her with a project for school. So-"

I turn away and keep trekking through the woods, Katniss following me from behind.

"Madge is a nice person," she says after a while. "If you try to get to know her, you'll see that."

"Check out that snare over there," I say. "Looks like we got something."

Katniss frowns at me, but moves toward the snare without commenting. She probably thinks it's because of pure anti-merchant sentiment that I won't go anywhere near Madge Undersee if you paid me with gold. What she doesn't know is I'm only keeping my distance because someone else started doing it first.


	7. 7

**7**

For half a year now, she's been avoiding me like the plague. It's not hard to achieve because I rarely even see Katniss as it is, with my job in the mines taking over six days of my week. And any free time I have, it's not like I'm going to spend it with someone who's cold-shouldering me, even if I want to, which I most definitely don't. But really, it just goes to show the two different worlds we live in.

So when we bump into each other in the woods, of all places, neither of us are too pleased.

Katniss has mentioned before that she's been taking Madge into the woods, so I'm assuming that's how come Madge got inside the fence. Now why the hell she's here without Katniss's supervision is beyond me. For sure she's not hunting; she's just sitting there against a tree prodding a twig on the ground. Does she think the woods are a playing ground or something? What, her backyard isn't big enough?

"Long time no see," I say coolly.

She drops the twig, stands up, and with no further ado brushes past me, heading back to the fence. I shake my head, angry with myself that I even bothered with conversation. Whatever. I'm stringing back my bow when I hear it. A girl's yelp.

_That's why mayor's daughters shouldn't be here_, I think in annoyance as my hare runs off. It'd be too easy to just let Madge get eaten by a mutt or whatever animal scaring her right now. But then again I don't need the mayor's wrath, and Catnip might not be so thrilled when she comes back from her Victory Tour to find her new best friend's a corpse.

As it turns out, the scenario's a bit unique. She's at the fence, bent down awkwardly and pulling at something with her fingers, wincing. I soon realize what's going on: her hair got caught on the wire on her way out.

She sees me and glares. "It's not funny, Hawthorne."

"It's not, Undersee?"

It seems she forgot that she's supposed to be ignoring me. "Go back to what you're doing, okay? I got this."

"Who said I was going to help you?"

She looks like she'd very much like to give me the finger, but her genteel-class manners make this difficult. "Screw off," she snaps. She can't even sink to proper vulgar language.

I straighten my face and walk over, kneel down. She's on the other side of the fence but we're still pretty close. Her hair smells like peppermint. I'd have pegged her for the flowery scent. She turns her face, not looking at me as I untangle her hair. She's probably panicking, but the fence is hardly ever turned on so I'm not too worried. The key is to be patient, anyway, like when you work with a snare. The strands of her hair are fine and slippery, so it doesn't take too long before I have her released.

"Maybe you should think about cutting your hair," I say.

She straightens up and we're left glaring at each other through the chained fence. "I'm not cutting it," she answers, and I scoff. _Girls_. "My aunt had short hair when she was my age. My mother mixes us up enough already, I don't want to make it worse."

_Aunt? Make it worse? _Madge doesn't give any more explanations, just tucks her chin into the collar of her coat and looks away. I'm dismissed. I take a step back, about to retreat into the woods, when she speaks again. "Sorry... I've been a bitch."

That stopped me. I'm not sure how to answer to this, but I end up not having to because she keeps talking.

"You were right. I should be able to think for myself. No matter what, it's my life, not my parent's. And if they really do love me they would understand. And they did, so it's all good now." She raises her eyes to meet mine and her expression reminds me of Posy, that time she cut up my pants to make dresses for her dolls and didn't know how to tell me. "You... do remember what I'm talking about, right?"

"Thaddio."

"Thaddeus," she corrects, but she's smiling.

Of course Madge Undersee, even when she's apologizing, has to make me feel like a total dick. "I was wrong, too," I mutter. "I shouldn't have..."

"Do you mind that I come here?" she asks suddenly. "The woods," she clarifies when I just stare at her. "I know it belongs to you and Katniss... But I just like how quiet it is and how nice it smells. Katniss's been teaching me how to hunt but I'm not so good at it. Not surprising, eh?" She smiles again.

"The woods don't belong to anyone," I say, crossing my arms. "But I don't see why you'd risk your neck if you're not even going to hunt. It's not all just little fluffy bunnies here, and if the Peacekeepers catch you-"

"When'd you get so protective all of a sudden?" She's definitely teasing me now. "I know, okay? I'll be careful. And you should know I'm good at sneaking to places without getting caught. I got out of my house this morning, didn't I?"

"It doesn't seem that hard to fool your parents."

Immediately a change comes across her face and it doesn't take a genius to know why. Even though I was just joking about how her parents pamper her so much she can probably get away with murder, what came out of my mouth sounds like an insult on Mayor Undersee and his wife's intelligence.

"I didn't mean-" I start to say.

"True, my dad's been distracted lately," she says, biting her lip. I realize she doesn't look angry, just... sad. "Seems like there's been..." A blast of wind arrives, whooshing in my ears, so that I miss what she said.

"Say it louder. I didn't hear you."

She looks at me. "Katniss and Peeta were in District 11 yesterday."

Sometimes I wonder if she has a mental disorder or something, constantly jumping from one topic to the next like that. "Yeah, I watched the broadcast," I say. "But why do you-"

"The ending," she says. "When the camera switched to the announcer guy, he dropped his papers. He wasn't ready."

"Capitol idiot," I snort.

Madge looks at me again. Another whoosh of wind pushes her hair back, strands blowing in her face. "I'm taking up your time," she says loudly over the wind. "Go. You still have a job to finish." She pulls up her coat collar. "Good luck!"

With that, she's gone. I roll my eyes and pick up my bow and arrows again. Before I turn I notice a strand of blond hair still dangling from the fence. Proof that I hadn't imagined it, Madge Undersee's mysterious return to my life.


	8. 8

**8**

I'm having second thoughts. Actually, I've been having second thoughts ever since I spotted that house. But what the hell. Why am I acting like such a pansy? I'm here to say thank you, good day, and I get out. Simple.

I press the doorbell. A couple seconds pass before it opens, and I'm praying it's her and not her parents. Considering how we always seem to run into each other without planning to, I was expecting to see her, blond hair and surprised smile.

But instead a brown-haired plump woman appears at the door. She's surprised, but not smiling.

"You are..."

"I'm Gale," I say stupidly, as if saying my name is very helpful when I don't recognize this woman - though from her coloring she has to be from the Seam.

Which is why it's strange when her eyes widen and she goes, "Ohhhh. Yes yes, come on in."

"You're here to see Madge?" she asks, once I step in. The gold decor and the sparkling lights once would have made me sick to my stomach, but actually, after being to Katniss's house - her new one in the grand Victor's Village - I'm not so overwhelmed. The mayor's house looks quite modest in comparison.

"Is she here?" I ask, because I'm high-tailing it out of there if she's not.

"Oh, she's here," says the woman, wiping one hand on her apron. I notice she's holding a mop with the other. A servant? "May I take your coat, sir? And slippers, sir? Would you like some slippers?"

She calls Madge by name and calls _me_ sir? "Uh, I can just stay here. I just need to talk to her really fast."

Her eyebrows go way up. "You stay here?" she repeats, putting both hands on her hips and looking at me in a way that's intimidating for someone so short. "And how is Madge going to get down here to meet you in her condition, hmm?"

_Condition_? But the woman's already yanking my jacket off me and shoving me towards the slippers. "Put them on, don't make me clean the carpet again," she grumbles. "Well, what are you standing there for? Follow me!"

I have no idea what I did to make her suddenly bad-tempered, but I decide it's probably wise not to anger her further, so I obey. Even though it seems like she's leading me to the stairs. Wait- what?

The stairs spiral up to the second floor and along the way, we pass by paintings hanging on the wall, then framed pictures. Now I'm having second thoughts - again. It's just... _weird_, that I'm here, privy to so much personal stuff when the most I've ever seen used to be the back door during the strawberry deliveries.

"Are you sure I should be..." I pause when the servant literally gives me an evil eye. I try again. "The mayor, he-"

"He's not home," says the servant shortly. "At the Justice Building." Now she stops in front of a door and knocks. "Madge, honey," she calls. "Someone's here to see you."

A voice comes from inside, blurred and muffled. "Who is it?"

At this the woman pushes open the door, gesturing at me to enter. "She's still a little weak," she whispers to me. "Don't stay too long." Without waiting for me to ask for an elaboration, the woman pats me on the arm and goes back to the stairs, leaving me hanging at the doorway alone.

By now I can already see Madge sitting on her bed against a pillow. "Gale Hawthorne," she says mockingly, but the effect's ruined by a loud cough and the hoarseness of her voice.

I walk over to her bed. Her room's a lot smaller than I thought it would be. Clean and orderly, except for some balled-up tissues and several books lying in a messy heap on the table next to her.

"Take a seat," she tells me, scooting over and patting the side of her bed. "Don't be shy."

"You're sick?"

"Just a flu," she shrugs. "And I'm getting better. Careful you don't catch it from me, though." She's wrapping up earphones attached to a black, small device she has on her lap. "Tchaikovsky," she explains when she sees me looking.

"Tchai-what?"

"Nah," she laughs. "So, Mr. Hawthorne, to what..." she coughs again, "do I owe this pleasure?"

Her eyes are smiling but they can't hide the dark circles under them, how pale she looks - paler than normal, and her chapped, dry lips. "The morphling," I say.

She drops her gaze, doesn't say anything.

"Mrs. Everdeen told me." I watch as she reaches for a glass of brown liquid on her bedside table and drinks it, grimacing at the taste as she does. "You got sick from running five miles in the snow, didn't you."

"It was not five miles," she says, wiping her mouth. "God, it was one, if even that."

"You know what I mean."

She ignores me. "I just have a weak immune system. When I was little I got sick a lot, our doctor was basically boarding at our house, and let me tell you he was such a fraud, always making me take these horrible pills that never-"

"Madge." Reluctantly she raises her head and I hold her gaze as I say, "Thank you."

She lowers her head again after she hears that. "Thank my mom, not me," she says, face hidden by her hair, which isn't pulled back by her usual ribbon today. "It's her morphling. And her idea."

"So you had nothing to do with it."

She glances at me and a grin's leaking on her face. "Yup. Not me. Why would I want to help you get better? I don't like you, remember?"

"Hey," I say. "I'm hurt."

"Ha ha," she says, grinning more widely now. But the grin's short-lived. "When are you going back to the mines?"

"Tomorrow."

"I heard they cut your wages," she says, voice heavy. She looks to her window, which faces the back of town. The street lined with merchant shops, which used to have bright signs and people coming and going. Now the windows are dark and the street's near-empty. Only people you can see are the new Peacekeepers, standing on every corner. "I tried to talk to my dad, but he can't do anything. Thread has more power than he does now."

That name makes me want to throw up. "We'll get by," I just say. Even if Vick is outgrowing his shoes and we can't afford him new ones. Even if Posy's getting skinnier and skinnier... Even if Rory had to sign up for tesserae. My nails are digging into my skin.

Looking at Madge, I remember something she said a while ago. _My father's been distracted lately. _"That time... in the woods. You tried to tell me about District 11."

She looks at her hands. "I didn't know for sure. I only picked up bits and pieces, numbers and codes, passing by Dad's study. But yes, I guessed something like that was up."

"And what about now? Have you heard any-"

"He caught me listening at the door a few weeks ago. Now he does all his communication at his office in the Justice Building."

The little ebb of excitement dies after that. But even if she had told me there was evidence of revolting in all the other districts, what would it change? Nothing in District 12. I feel like I'm in limbo. Katniss had wanted to run, but I can't do that after all. Rebellion- I _want_ to, but it doesn't happen with just one person. I used to think it's not just me. Only these days, when all I see are weary, starving faces, in addition to the new gallows at the square, the charred remains of the Hob, and the increasing number of Peacekeepers... And I can't blame people for being scared, not when now and then I still have nightmares about that whip poised in the air. Not about to hit me. But hit Rory, Vick, Katniss,Thom or Bristel-

Suddenly something warm covers my hand. "I'm with you," says Madge, her palm warm on my fingers. "So don't give up."

Her gaze is direct as she says that, and inexplicably I feel lighter inside. I turn my hand over so that my fingers lace through hers. We look at each other, unspoken words passing between us.

A knock on the door brings us back to our senses. "Madge, open the door, please," the servant says from the other side.

Madge makes a move to get off the bed, but I beat her there. "Is something wrong?" I ask, looking out.

"No, of course not," says the servant, but she definitely sounds nervous. That's when I see she's not the only one in the hall.

"Hello," says a woman with wavy blond hair like Madge's, dressed in a sleeping robe. "A pleasure to meet you. Gale, is it?"

Except it doesn't seem like she thinks it's a pleasure at all.

"Mom?" asks Madge, giving me a start. I don't know how she got to the door so fast. "You're up?" She notices where her mother's gaze is directed at and hurriedly says, "Gale just came by to check on how I'm doing... He's leaving now."

"Yes," I say, catching on. "I'm leaving."

"In that case," says the mayor's wife, looking at me, "I'll walk Gale to the door."

Uh-oh.

Madge looks like she wants to argue but dissolves into a coughing fit, which instantly has her servant ushering her back into her room, barking, "Young lady, you heard what the doctor said, are you out of your mind?" The door clicks shut, and I'm back to staring at Mrs. Undersee.

"This way," she says, and what choice do I have? To my chagrin the stairs are wide, wide enough for Mrs. Undersee and I to walk side by side. "How are you? Your wounds have healed well?"

"Uh, yeah," I say. I forgot she even knew about the whipping, but of course. _Thank my mom, not me._ "All thanks to your morphling."

She looks at me, and it's a very similar look to Madge's. You can't tell what she's thinking. "I wasn't going to send anything," Mrs. Undersee says, "but my daughter was hysterical."

We're in the foyer now, but Mrs. Undersee has maneuvered herself so that I can't reach the doorknob unless I go around her. I think that's the point.

"What is Madge to you?" she asks.

"She's a friend." The reply came so naturally, so smoothly, out of my mouth. I guess it's true. "A good friend," I say, more forcefully this time.

"I see," she says. Under the lights I notice the streaks of gray in her hair, the lines around her mouth. She looks a lot older than my mother, and a lot older than I remember seeing her on stage behind her husband. Though now that I think about it, I might have made that up. "She cares an awful lot about you. Because you're friends, is that right?"

I stare back at her. It was a neutral question, but for some reason it rubs me the wrong way.

She's not looking at me now, but moving to the coat rack, where she pulls off my jacket and hands it to me. "Give my regards to Mrs. Everdeen," she says, opening the door.

As I walk away I can still feel her eyes, watching me, in a way that makes me uneasy.

**A/N: Sigh, it's a shame that we women have a habit of saying things in such a roundabout way.**


	9. 9

**A/N: Thank you for the kind reviews :) hehehe especially to that kind soul who is now stalking this story? hahaha that cracked me up. Thanks to you I actually added in this chapter last-minute. I felt like I had to live up to your expectations lol. I don't know if I managed it with this chapter... At least I had fun writing it. ;)**

* * *

**9**

After Katniss conks out in my arms, Mrs. Everdeen and Prim take over, bringing her upstairs to her room, changing her into clothes that don't stink of booze, and so on. As Prim strokes Katniss's hair in a touching motherly manner, Mrs. Everdeen invites me to stay the night, insisting there are many unoccupied bedrooms perfectly ready for use in the giant manor that is their new residence. But as I have work early tomorrow morning, I decide the more practical, not to mention considerate thing to do, is to go back to my house. Besides, I only came here to talk to Katniss. Now that I did talk to her - for all of thirty seconds, though in those thirty seconds the message was clear enough (_we're not running away_, which part of me already predicted) - there's no point in sticking around like a freeloader, especially since everyone's had a long day.

Getting to town, I have to be careful because the new horde of Peacekeepers are now covering the streets twenty-four seven. I've heard more than a few of the ones on the night shift complain, though never louder than grumbles. They're all afraid of Thread. I would have laughed at them, except these days I have no energy to laugh anymore. No one does, I'm willing to bet.

Using shadows of the buildings and back alleys, I get around some Peacekeepers on duty without being seen. It's not like I'm breaking any law walking, not bothering anyone, but Thom has warned me that these assholes make arrests sometimes just because they're bored, and enough common sense tells me I won't be doing anyone favors by landing myself in the stocks.

Just as I'm ready to turn onto the path to Seam, where the trees offer more coverage and the surveillance is much lighter, I hear a voice, getting louder. The speaker must be walking this way. I step back into the shadows and wait.

"...a beauty like you wandering around by yourself? Sneaking off to see your boyfriend, are you? Tsk tsk."

The oily tone grates my eardrums like nails on a chalkboard. From the drawling accent, I know for sure he's not someone from our district; got to be one of the fresh imports. And from the other voice - a female's - that replies with a curt, "Let go of me," I can pretty much guess what's happening.

My blood boils with disgust. Right at that moment there's nothing I want to but beat this slimebag Peacekeeper's head to a pulp. To hell with consequences. I don't care if they whip me dead for this one. Nothing that happens to me will be worse than what's happening to Catnip, anyway. Going back to the arena, facing gory violence and good possibility of death when you thought the nightmare was already over? Yeah, hard to beat that.

I take one step forward, planning to take advantage of the element of surprise, when I hear a yell of pain.

A _man's _yell of pain.

This is explained to me when a second later, I see the Peacekeeper standing hunched down, his hands covering that certain area of a man's body which makes me grimace automatically- and I see another figure, a blurred one, running past me.

"This way," I hiss, yanking the fleeing fugitive back behind the wall, as the Peacekeeper, apparently having gotten over his trauma, screeches "bitch" over and over with renewed energy.

He hobbles towards us, seething with fury, but I'm holding my breath and pressing my back to the wall; the girl beside me is smart enough to do the same. His flashlight shines down this alley but luckily misses us. Still muttering curses under his breath, he moves past us and continues down the street, where we can hear another Peacekeeper asking him what the hell was that about.

I let out my breath finally. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah," the girl says, "but I wish I didn't lose my hat."

Wait a minute... that voice...

"It's _you_?"

The girl pauses and turns my way. "Gale?"

With my eyes adjusting to the dimness, I make out Madge's face. Her eyes are wide as saucers, but they're more from pure shock than from trying to see in the dark.

"What are you doing here?" she asks in amazement.

"Look who's talking," I say. Just when I think I've had my share of bizarre situations running into Madge Undersee, this happens. Although speaking of situations, this probably isn't the most appropriate one for chitchat. I nod towards the deeper end of the alley and she nods back.

"I was trying to see Katniss," she whispers as we crouch down in the safer spot. "You saw her, right? How is she?"

"Sleeping," I answer. Madge doesn't need to know the circumstances that led to the sleeping part.

Still, she seems to intuit as much. "Why?" she says miserably. "Why did this have to happen?"

Because Snow is a fucking sadistic pig, that's why.

But everyone knows this without needing to say it out loud, so I don't. "Wait until tomorrow to see her," I tell Madge instead. "It's not safe to go anywhere this time of the night. You should know, after what happened."

"I can take care of myself."

"I saw," I say, shaking my head at the image of Madge Undersee kneeing grown men in the groin. "But what about next time, the next Peacekeeper?"

"You sound like my father," she mutters. Then she gasps. "Oh no! I forgot to close the window. If Dad hears the wind blowing and sees that-"

"-you snuck out?" I finish for her. There's definitely a guilty air to her as she looks away. "We better get you back there before he does, then."

"We?"

Actually, I don't know why I just said that either. Safety might not lie in numbers in our case, not when I have no back-up story if someone catches me with the mayor's daughter running around in the dark, looking like we've obviously done something wrong. When we hadn't. Well, Madge has (_their _definition of wrong, that is), but I haven't. So why should I risk myself escorting her home?

But I know things are going to get more dangerous the longer I sit here pondering my choices, so I just turn to Madge and say, "Come on."

This time she doesn't object. Neither of us dare communicate, and treading as quietly as possible on the cement and occasionally ducking roaming flashlights, we manage to get back to the mayor's house without showing up on anyone's radar.

"No, through here," Madge whispers to me when I start towards their front lawn. She's gesturing at a side fence, covered with some sort of leafy vine, and reaches over her arm to loosen the latch. With a gentle push she opens a small gate and slips inside. I follow her into what appears to be the Undersees' backyard.

"I climb that up and I'm home," she says, pointing at a tree with long limbs, one of which does lead up to a window that's half-open right now. None of the house lights are on except for a light on their back porch, so it looks like Madge has escaped being grounded for life. "Will you be okay on your way back?"

"'Course," I say. And since she's still staring at me with her forehead scrunched up in worry, I add, "Seriously. I'll be fine."

"Okay," she says, though she doesn't sound too reassured. She turns to head towards the tree, then stops and looks back. "Hey, Gale?"

"What?"

"I had fun tonight."

I stare at her like she's crazy. And she must be, because she starts laughing. Muffled laughter, because her hands are covering her mouth, but still.

And the craziest part?

I laugh too. A short laugh, but it's a laugh alright. A laugh that's not even forced.

"Good night," she says, halfway up the tree. I should be surprised that Madge Undersee can even touch a tree without fearing worms and germs, much less climb one. But by now, to be honest? I'm not surprised by anything she does anymore.

"Good night," I reply. _So weird,_ I think as I let myself out of her backyard and begin the rest of my journey back to the Seam. Weird that this night, which had started out completely shitty, actually turned out to be, like what Madge said, "fun." Fun in an adventurous kind of way.


	10. 10

**Hey, sorry for the late update. I've been rewriting my ending. This fic will officially be longer than I originally planned. **

**Now get ready for a Gale x Peeta moment. (lol)**

* * *

**10**

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Mellark is standing there, expectantly. Looking at _me_. I squint against the sun, trying to decipher his expression, but the shadow from the fence gets in the way.

I glance around, but of course we're alone. Catnip just headed back to the house because Prim called her for something. Mr. Beer Breath wasted no time in going back to his, clutching his head and moaning about how tired he was - much to my relief. Only so much of Haymitch Abernathy I can take in one day.

Mellark clears his throat. "It'll be quick."

Right. He wants to talk to me. About what? Somehow, I have a feeling he's not looking for a chat about the weather or to compliment me on my teaching skills. I stuff the last of the snares into my bag and stand up, facing him. "I'm listening."

His eyes don't quite meet mine; they flicker to the bag I'm holding. "I can help you carry that."

I shift the bag to my back. "I got it."

"Sure?"

"I'm sure."

Another silence. I realize Mellark's stalling. Holy shit, this is getting creepy.

"Well? Talk." I know I'm being rude, but if there's one thing I can't stand, it's this roundabout skirting-around business.

Mellark scratches his ear. "Alright, just hear me out," he says, slowly reaching into his pant pocket. He pulls out something thin and shiny that dangles from his palm. "So, the Games are starting soon. In three months."

As if both of us don't very well know it's actually two months, three weeks and two days. I nod, prompting him to go on.

"And..." Mellark stares mutely at the chain-like thing in his hand for a moment. This seems to give him some strength because when he looks up at me, his gaze is more piercing than usual. "I'm making sure Katniss is the one coming home."

Mellark is a few inches shorter than me, but when he says that it feels _I'm_ looking up at _him_.

Damn him. Acting like the cool one.

_Like you're in the position to,_ a snide voice says in the back of my head. I tell it to shut the hell up.

"Sounds like you already decided."

"I did."

"Then why talk to me about it?"

Unexpectedly, Mellark opens his palm and tosses whatever it was in his hand at me. I catch it, the slippery chain sliding between my fingers. A necklace. The fuck? Is this his idea of a goodbye present, or what?

"Open it," he tells me.

I frown at him, but now he's not looking at me, instead staring off into the sky. My fingers find the heavier end of the chain, what feels like a smooth, circular piece of metal. Holding it closer to my eye, I make out a nicely carved golden mockingjay on the top. As well as a tiny little clasp on the side. I press, and it clicks open.

A beaming Prim and Mrs. Everdeen greet me from inside.

"Smart," I say, and I mean it. It doesn't take a mindreader to tell that Katniss is set on bringing Mellark home, just like he's set on bringing her home. It's a tug of war of wills. One I thought Catnip would win easily, only Mellark now seems to be proving me wrong. Granted, he's still got a fight ahead of him. But you had to give it to him; I wouldn't have thought of this trick.

"I need yours, too."

It takes me a moment for what Mellark said to sink in. "My what?"

"Your picture."

Not until now do I notice the other side of the locket: a blank, clean surface. "One's enough." I throw the necklace back at him, hitch the bag higher up my shoulder, and turn to go.

He grabs my arm. "I don't get it," he hisses. "You want her to come back, don't you? That's what I'm trying to do."

Mellark's baby blues are unblinking.

_You want her to come back, don't you?_

Suddenly it feels hard to swallow.

"Gale!" he calls after me. "I'll just get it from your mother, you know!"

There's a dull thudding in my ears. Katniss is on her way out the back door when I pass by. "You leaving? I'll walk with you back to..."

"You don't have to." My voice sounds foreign, even to me. I'm vaguely aware of Katniss's bewildered face as I brush past her, my head numb.

* * *

*Madge's POV*

Lucy is distracted today, which is good. The vacumn is having issues and she's been grumbling all morning. Easily I slip into the kitchen unforeseen while she's banging the machine against the coffee table. I give Rick a terrible fright. He jumps about a mile and the cigar almost slips out of his mouth, but he relaxes when he sees it's me.

"Going out?" he asks, lifting an eyebrow. "Hot date again?"

"You know it." I stuff my feet into flip-flops - thank God it's warm enough now not to wear clunky boots, which are so loud to move in. And they leave tell-tale bootprints on the floor.

"One of these days I should tell your mother what you're up to."

I point at his cigar. He sighs dramatically.

"You're lucky I've got a soft heart, honey-pie," he says through a puff of smoke.

"Aren't I?" I laugh and tug his scraggly beard. He ruffles my hair in revenge.

"Be careful now," he says darkly as he hands me my hat. "Those..." He spits a string of bad words. Rick is not a fan of the new Peacekeepers. Who is, though?

He'd be so proud if he knew how I handled my last encounter with... well, those you-know-what. But I have a feeling no amount of "soft heart" will keep him from telling my mother (or worse, my father - or even worse, _Lucy_) if he knew, so I just smile and promise him I'll be back by dinner on my way out.

It's too hot outside to wear a hat, but I pat it firmly against my hair, making sure no strands are hanging loose. Rick will be glad to know I _am_ careful. I'm not going to repeat the mistake from last time. With my tucked-up hair, Rick's borrowed shirt (oversized on me, but all the better) and baggy pants, Pervert Peacekeeper can try to hunt me down. I've even used scissors to trim Rick's pants so that they wouldn't be too long to trip on, but long enough to cover most of my flip-flops. The newspapers, which I've rolled up, fit nicely under the waistband, hidden by the oversized shirt.

See? I've thought of everything.

Looks like my disguise might not even be necessary though; enough people on the street to let me blend in. It's nothing compared to the old days, but there's definitely more traffic flow than there was this past winter. I guess with time, people have grown used to the new Peacekeepers, their new rules and laws, their habits and temperaments. Which means they've learned how to find loopholes and how to outsmart. That's the District 12 way of subversion. Quiet and subtle. Effective, to an extent.

But is it the right way? The best way, long-term-wise?

"You little shit."

I freeze in my steps. Pervert Peacekeeper's face pops in my head, a finger pointing at me accusingly, his stupid mustache twitching.

Then the angry voice says, "You blind or something? Watch where you're going!" The voice isn't getting closer, and besides, I haven't bumped into anyone.

So it's not me.

But worse. It means it's someone else.

The woman walking ahead of me speeds up her pace and ducks her head, clearly not wanting to get involved. _That means this is bad_. I pretend to scratch my nose and in doing so, glance towards the commotion. On the other side of the street, not far outside the shoesmith shop, a Peacekeeper has his back to me, an arm reached out to bar someone from walking away. I look at the other people around me. Many are doing what the woman had done: averted faces, hurried steps. Swooping in as the hero is not part of quiet subversion.

It's not part of my repertoire, either. But I can't stop thinking about Pervert Peacekeeper and his nasty leer that night. The way he gripped my arm. How my knees felt like jelly, inspite of how strong and calm I acted. Acted being the key word.

What if it's him again, and he's got some other girl cornered?

A couple paces closer, I get a better view of the victim. I catch a glimpse of dark hair, not much longer than at the nape of the neck, and an arm that's scrawny next to the Peacekeeper's brawn, but still tight with muscle.

It's not a girl. A boy.

A boy with a look that says he would _very_ much like to pummet the Peacekeeper's face in. I know that look.

So does the Peacekeeper. "You got a problem with me, boy?" says the Peacekeeper. There's glee underneath his jeer.

I reach there just in time. Before Gale can sink his clenched-up fist into the Peacekeeper's nose, I throw myself inbetween them.

Which means I got hit instead.

Good one, Madge. Good one.

* * *

**So much violence, omg...**

******And that's right, I lied about it being all-Gale. I couldn't help it - I just got so tired of writing in angsty Gale's POV like all the time.**


	11. 11

**And we're back to GALE'S POV**

**11**

_Who..._

_What..._

_How?_

I don't get a chance to process what exactly happened. Someone's shoving me forward so forcefully I stumble. That someone is also talking loudly and hurriedly, vowels and consonants runing into each other. I manage to pick out the words "been looking all over for you" and "don't run off again" and "Sorry sir, he's not right in the head."

Who's not right in the head?

Don't tell me...

"Keep walking," the person dragging me by the elbow mutters, even though at this pace, we're more closer to jogging. As if my head isn't confused and dizzy enough, he starts leading me around a sharp turn, zigzagging through the street so fast I bump into a merchant carrying boxes, who glares at me like it's my fault.

That's about when I come back to my senses and wrench my elbow away. "Who are you?"

The stranger, a scrawny little messenger boy by the looks of it, puts his hand on his hip in a weirdly effeminate manner. He tips up the brim of his hat. And smirks.

My jaw goes slack.

"Hello to you, too," Madge sniffs. She readjusts her hat, tugging it lower as she cranes her neck to look over her shoulder. "I think we lost him," she observes with satisfaction.

The memory of the foul-smelling Peacekeeper comes back to me.

"You should've let me-"

"-bash his brains in," she nods. "A fun sight that'd have been too. But as much as _I _didn't want to get caught in the cross-fire," she says, holding a hand to her cheek - which I only just saw now was somewhat red - "I also didn't want you to get another whipping. You didn't think of that, did you though?"

She turns away from me, hand still cradling her cheek.

The enormity of what I did finally slams home.

I hit a girl.

That puts me higher in the Villain Book than Snow. What a thought.

"Does it hurt bad?" I ask. _Genius, what do you think?_

She shrugs in typical Madge-fashion. I think back to the days I'd gotten into fights or friendly tussles or whatever you want to call it. What had my mother done when I went home with a black eye? _Oh, Gale_, my mother's exasperated face would go. _Quick, put some ice on it_.

That's it.

I grab Madge's elbow this time and start pulling her forward. She makes an affronted noise, apparently forgetting that five minutes ago it was her bossing me around. "Where are you-?"

"Keep moving," I return her earlier words. Her brows knit together in the frown that obviously means she's very annoyed with me. Well, the feeling's mutual. If she hadn't decided to save me, I'd be on that whipping post, like Madge predicted. Getting what I deserve.

x

If you ask me, town people should really think about timing their meals properly. Almost three in the afternoon and still in the mood for lunch? When the door shuts behind Madge, a bell chimes overhead. Several of the blond heads turn toward us. Conversation doesn't falter but there's a dip in the buzz, alright.

"Table for two?"

The waitress sidles up to us, clicking a pen against a menu. Her eyes widen when they zone in on me.

Great.

Just great.

"Gale Hawthorne," she squawks, voice scaling an octave. Velma Hendersen has always been into her theatrics. She sat next to me in school for two years because the teachers liked to keep us alphabetically ordered. "No way! Haven't seen you since graduation!"

And here's where my luck runs out. I skip the greetings; Hendersen's ethusiasm can cover both of us. "You got a bag of ice?"

I can practically see her mind turning on its wheels as she looks at me, then looks at Madge... causing her eyebrows to rise halfway up her forehead. It's kind of funny watching her try to figure out who Madge is, since Velma Hendersen doesn't have a whole lot of wheels in her mind to begin with.

"_A bag of ice,"_ I say this time with emphasis.

"Oh, for..."

"I hit the door," Madge says, gesturing at her cheek. "Tripped."

Hendersen smiles in a way I don't like at all. "Mm-hmm, sure thing, I'll get ice for you. Why don't you two sit here while you wait? Thirsty? Care for something to eat?"

"Uh, no thanks," says Madge, glancing at me.

With a whiplike movement, Hendersen turns on her heel and struts to the kitchen. Before the kitchen door swings shut I can already see her fat lips squealing whatever story she's spinning to whoever is there to listen, as I've seen her do countless times in class whenever the teacher's back was turned. Good times.

"Cheer up," Madge offers blithely as she slides into her end of the booth. "Townie gossip never lasts a day."

She flips open a menu, swinging her feet. For someone who just got punched in the face, she's in damn high spirits.

"Relax," she says, apparently misinterpreting my scowl. "To them we're just two ol' buddies getting a quick bite to eat after work. Your reputation's safe with me." She presses her knuckles to her lips, stifling a laugh. "Unless, of course, they think we're two gay buddies."

She quiets and looks at me some more.

"Hey," she says, closing the menu. She leans forward slightly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Enough with the denial. I _know_ something's bothering you."

I make the mistake of meeting her gaze. Not for the first time, her eyes remind me of Mellark's. They both have a way of staring right into you and making you feel like all your insides are exposed. I hate it.

"Fine, you don't have to tell me."

Maybe it's the hurt in Madge's eyes when she leans back and hides it by toying with the salt and pepper. Maybe it's the tension eating me up, threatening to explode as my guts clench up tighter and tighter. Maybe it's my fingers itching to throw out a punch again. Not at a Peacekeeper, certainly not at Madge - but at me.

Or maybe I inhaled too much coal dust in the mines.

Whatever it is, right there in the middle of Velma Hendersen's family's diner, while people around us clinked their forks against their plates and someone's toddler starts wailing, I find myself opening my mouth... and the words pour out of me in one rush of breath:

"Mellark wants Katniss to win. He wants to save her. So he plans to die... he's ready to die if he and Katniss go off to the Quell, so that Katniss can come home. So that she can marry me - or I can marry her, and we live happily ever after. He wants me to help him. He thinks that's what I want."

I stay focused on the plaid-patterned tablecloth. A thread is fraying.

"That's just it. It _is _what I want. Ever since I saw them kiss on-screen... I didn't care that Mellark saved her life. I didn't care that he was even a _person_. I just wanted him to disappear, to have Katniss for myself. I'm-"

_I'm scum_.

"You're not," says Madge sharply.

That's strange. I thought I didn't say the last part out loud.

"Gale," she says, lowering her voice and leaning forward. "Don't think that. None of this is your fault. Peeta doesn't blame you for this - if it was Peeta in your shoes, he'd feel the same way. It's natural, okay? It's natural you feel like this because you _love_ Katniss." She pauses for a fraction of a second. "When you love someone, you don't want to share them. You're selfish. No matter what you say to yourself, how much you try to reason, it doesn't change that... It doesn't."

I raise my head. Both of Madge's cheeks are oddly flushed, not just the one I accidentally injured. She has a napkin balled in her fist. She's tearing at it with her other hand; I don't think she realizes. Something's off.

She looks... I don't know. A little angry. Pained, even.

"Thanks," I say into the silence. "I feel better." And it's true. The clench in my guts has deflated. All that's left bothering me is embarrassment at my recent soul-baring experience. Madge nods and smiles, the look from before vanishing. Did I imagine it?

But before I can dissect this further, a pair of high heels smacks obnoxiously on the floor to our table.

"Your ice," Hendersen announces, dropping it onto the table. "That'd be two-seventy-five."

"For a bag of ice," I say, just to clarify.

"Yeah," blinks Hendersen.

"You can't be se-"

"Gale," says Madge with a minimal shake of her head. She pats the front pockets of her pants and comes up with a spatter of coins.

"That's only one-eighty-five," remarks Hendersen.

"I know about fifteen places where we can get ice for free," I snap.

Like a cat pouncing on a mouse, Velma Hendersen scoops up the money, narrows her heavy-lidded eyes at me one last time, and floats away with a flip of her curls.

"Unbelievable," I glare at her retreating back.

"Give her some credit," says Madge. "At least she didn't kick us out."

I turn my attention back to Madge. She's holding the bag of ice to her cheek. Eyes closed, her head resting on the back of her seat, she gives me a thumbs-up sign. In the sunlight her skin looks so pale it's almost blue.

She's tired. Which I can't blame her for one bit. An afternoon like this, she's been through a lot of shit. All thanks to me and my poor anger management. Or poor management of any emotion, actually. A guilt-trip from Mellark and look what I almost got myself into. Not to mention, my terrible choice in diners hasn't helped matters.

A wave of gratitude sweeps over me. Even Katniss wouldn't have put up with this.

But Madge did.

This might not be enough to make things right. But I might as well try.

"You're really something, Madge. I was wrong about you before. You..." _Nice speech, Hawthorne. _Communication's another skill I'm sorely lacking. "You're a great person. A great friend."

There. Done. Don't ever expect me to say that sort of mushy crap again.

Madge snaps open her eyes. She pins me with such an intense look, it startles me. Then with a jerk of her head, she looks down at her lap.

"I'm not," she says.

It's a little frustrating when someone can't accept a compliment that gave you goosebumps to say out loud. "You are."

"No," she says, shaking her head furiously. She shifts the ice around in her hand. Her other hand's crumpling the napkin again. "You don't know me at all."

This is a stupid thing to say in my opinion. Yeah, so I don't know her favorite color or the details of her daily routine. But I'm willing to bet I know a lot more about her than her own parents do, especially in the rule-breaking department.

But Madge isn't finished. "If you... If you knew what's in my head, you wouldn't call me a friend." She swallows visibly. Her head is bent so I can't see her face. "Gale, you're not the only one who..."

Not the only one who what?

I never do get to hear the end of that sentence, though. Because dear Velma Hendersen chooses to come back at that point.

"Just so you know," she says snottily, snatching the menus away, "our tables are reserved for _paying_ patrons. You know, people who plan to _order_ things."

Right. Like the diner's not practically empty by now except for Madge and me.

"You have spinach in your teeth," I inform Hendersen.

Her expression right as I shut the door is the highlight of my day.

Outside, Madge is fidgeting with the tail of her shirt. Now that I think about it, she never did mention why the hell she was cross-dressing. Is this what she meant when she said I don't know her?

"You were saying-"

"I have to go," Madge cuts me off. "Important business stuff," she adds with a hint of a smile.

But this time I know better. I put a hand on her shoulder before she could turn around.

"Damn it, you always do this. Stop changing the subject. Look, if something's bothering _you_, tell me. I want to return the favor after you..."

She lays her hand over mine and squeezes it. "Thank you, Gale, but... I want to be alone right now. I just- need to think over some things. You understand, right? Please don't follow me."

The hat hides her eyes. Gently she removes my hand from her shoulder and walks away. Leaving me standing amidst a stream of merchant folk, unspoken questions on my tongue.

* * *

**Poor Madge. And poor Gale, he really has no clue. . Ah, unrequited love. So sad. I don't want to be a sap but I'm a sucker for this sorta thing. I'm so sentimental -_- Which is why I'm not suited for writing in an angry boy's POV. I make 'em so girly. sighhh**

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. If you're reading, I'd love to know how you think I'm handling the "direction" of their relationship. I mean I've got some ideas on where things go from here, but it'd be nice to get outside opinion...**


	12. 12

**12**

Thom plunks down next to me during lunch break, knocking over my water canteen and waving his hand in my face. This better be urgent.

I pop out my earplugs, and at once the drilling noise batters my eardrums. "What?"

Thom has to shout to make himself heard over the drills, but from the way he's manically grinning, I'd say he doesn't mind. "Clarissa. She said yes!"

Clarissa... Yeah. This isn't urgent. To anyone other than Thom, anyway. "That's great." Thom doesn't notice my lack of gusto. How can he? His head's on cloud nine. After relentlessly chasing this Clarissa chick for about a year, he finally proved that his efforts weren't fruitless.

"She made this for me," says Thom, showing me the case carrying his sandwich. It's got some flowery design stitched on it. He has no shame.

Dopey Thom beats Mopey Thom by far, though. Throughout our school years, there's rarely been a day when he wasn't grumpy because no girl ever took him seriously. That was because he tried too hard. He refused to believe that girls are not likely to be wooed by two-paged love notes.

But it looks like I've been wrong. Clearly Thom understands women. More than I do, that's for sure.

"Hey," I say, coughing to cover up my mortification at what I'm about to ask. "Can you help me - with a problem?"

"Sure," he says, still looking at his lunch case adoringly. "What's up?"

I look around. Bristel and some of the guys are playing some sort of card game on the other side of the wall, keeping their laughter low in case Jed, our supervisor, is prowling around.

"I have this... friend."

"Do I know him?"

This is going to be painful. "It's not a guy."

Thom sits up straighter. "I see," he says, and shifts closer, face serious. "Gale, listen. You just have to be honest and let her know your _feeling__s_. You two are both quiet, ridiculously proud people so one of you needs to just throw away your pride and-"

I hold a hand up. "Who're you talking about?"

"Katniss," he states, like it's obvious.

"It's not about Katniss."

"What?" You'd think I just told him I've been sniffing glue, or something. "Another girl? Who?" He snaps his fingers. "Wait, I know. It's Ady Ennerth, isn't it? You got back together with her? Wow, I knew she was still crazy about you but I didn't think you..."

"Thom. No."

"Then it's that girl with the glasses, the one you met at the dance? Brittany? Her sister also liked you- Breda?"

I groan as Thom pulls out several more names I'm amazed _he_ remembers. "Shut up, Thom." He shuts up. "Do you want to hear this or not?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"Sorry," he says sheepishly. "I won't interrupt. Go."

How many minutes of lunch break are left, anyway? Two, three? But against all odds, I find myself confiding in another person for the second time in a week. My mother would say I'm making progress and becoming a more mature, healthier individual. Rory would call me a pansy.

Thom actually keeps his promise. He stays mum as I tell him about this "friend" of mine, careful not to mention any names.

When I finish, he stares at the crumbly ceiling for a while. "Oh, man. Let me get this straight." I wait for whatever profound question he's going to throw, when he says, "So this girl is really just your friend?"

Has he even been listening this whole time? "Yes, she's a friend. That's what I _said_."

"No, I mean - I'm just surprised. Because it sounds to me like you're really close. I didn't realize you had another best friend who's a girl, besides Katniss."

_Madge? Best friend? _I've only really started to know her since the Games started last year. So, less than a year. Besides, she doesn't even count it... whatever this is... as knowing. "She's not my best friend. She's just a friend." How many times do I have to repeat myself to get this through?

"But... for a friend you seem to care about her a lot. Face it, Gale... You're not usually this concerned about anyone except for Katniss and your family. She's not related to you, right?"

A woman's voice speaks in my head:

_She cares an awful lot about you._

I shake my head free of this deja vu feeling. "Can we get back to the point? I asked you what you think's bothering her, remember? Or if anything's even bothering her."

"Well, it's true that girls are dramatic sometimes over nothing," muses Thom. "But you said yourself she's not normally like that."

"No, she's not."

"Then think... maybe family problems?"

The mayor's bland, smiling face comes to mind, and his cold, unfriendly wife. But that was only when Madge's mother was talking to me. That says enough by itself. Her mom was obviously demonstrating some of her overprotective maternal love when she gave me the third degree. "I don't think so."

"What about money problems?"

"Fine there." This I know, at least.

"Did she have a fight with her other friends, maybe?"

Madge's other friends consists of Katniss... and I think that's it. Could this be what's bothering her? That she doesn't have a lot of friends? But I mean, it's always been like that for her and she's been perfectly chipper, why would she randomly start getting depressed over it now?

I shake my head.

"Then there's only one possibility left," says Thom firmly. "Boy trouble."

I just stare at him.

"Think about it," says Thom with the air of someone explaining two-plus-two. "Remember Ady? She went around crying and begging you to take her back for, like, two days." He rocks back on his heels. "Girls take that stuff hard, man. The broken heart stuff."

Madge, broken heart? This doesn't fit the image well, but then again, when was the last time Madge and I discussed boys or _dating?_

Well, we sort of did when she mentioned Thaddeus-what's-his-face. And I hadn't exactly been the most understanding listener.

But her heart wasn't _broken_ when her parents ended it. In fact, she was the one who convinced her dad to break it off. She told me that.

"Maybe her boyfriend dumped her," suggests Thom.

She never mentioned having a boyfriend and I've never seen her with one. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't have one. Or used to have one… or wants to have one.

But – who?

It's got to be some town hotshot with a new girl on his arm every week. Jerk.

Okay, I'm not saying I'm on a higher moral ground. I do remember Ady Ennerth and the crying she did. But we were only fourteen, and all I did was kiss her one day at the slag heap. She wanted to get married over that. Ady Ennerth was mental.

But Madge? She's different. She's different from most girls, actually. So what kind of asshole would-

"Oh shit," curses Thom, jumping. "There's Jed. C'mon, we should head back. Gale. Gale?" He nudges me in the ribs.

"Yeah, coming."

But for the rest of the day, I can't get lost in the rhythm. I can't clear my thoughts. All I can think about is who could've hurt Madge this bad. And what Madge saw in him to let him do that. The more I think about it, the more…

I break the hammer I'm using. Jed's walking by and he lifts an eyebrow. "Whoa there, Hawthorne. What's got you so fired up?"

* * *

**Yup, finally Gale's exes make an appearance. But that's probably it. Those poor girls. **

**Btw Kinkajous17, thank you for your support. I'm so touched. Enable your PM! Big thanks to the other reviewers too. I'm very happy you guys like it. **


	13. 13

**This chapter I used a dialogue taken directly from Catching Fire, Chapter 13. I've only decided to lengthen the scene, I guess you can say, and of course the other difference is it's from Gale's POV.**

**"you break his/her heart, I'll break your face" doesn't belong to me either. I don't know where the quote originated - I've heard it everywhere - but I know I originally heard it in the movie Some Kind of Wonderful which was really, really cute and I recommend people to watch it. The line was spoken by Watts and I LOVE her (she's a tomboy! A beautiful tomboy!)**

**This is a short chapter, but next one will be long (that's when I finally tackle a Madge confrontation). Promise! **

* * *

**13**

I thought it'd be awkward to see Mellark again, considering I hadn't been exactly polite the last time. But I should have known. He's not one to hold a grudge. All calm and cordial, he acts like we never had a conversation about lockets or Katniss. Which suits me fine.

But then, just as I'm examining his snare, and while Katniss is arguing with Haymitch, he utters under his breath, "I got the picture from your mom. One with you smiling."

He smirks, very subtly, at my expression. Shock quickly gets replaced by a strong current of annoyance. Going to my mom behind my back? That's low. If he's trying to play the hero, he didn't have to go this far.

"I don't owe you anything," I mutter back.

He laughs, a humorless laugh. "You think that's what I'm after? I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing this for her."

"You..." I don't even know what I was going to say. But it doesn't matter, because Katniss turns to Mellark just then, and everything else to Mellark becomes thin air. I know our conversation's over this time. For real.

By the time the lesson ends, the sun has set. Katniss wants to walk me to town; I can tell she's a little uneasy at what the Peacekeepers might do under the cover of darkness, which they might think twice about with the Girl On Fire in my company. I almost tell her I don't need her protection, but then I remember pushing her away last week, which she seems to have forgotten but I haven't. And besides, I miss talking to her alone. It feels like ages since I last did so.

The walk towards town is quiet, just Catnip and me side by side - like we're back in the woods. Katniss tips her head back, looking at the stars, her face, tense from the past few weeks (or make that past several months) more relaxed than usual. I should be feeling the same, but I can't. Mellark's words are still echoing in my head,_ I'm doing this for her_. The way he said it, with that easy confidence... The anger's back again, but this time I know it's not directed at Mellark. It's directed at myself.

He doesn't have to play the hero. He is the hero.

"What are you thinking about?" asks Katniss. She's regarding me part curiously, part worriedly.

I give her the truth. "I was thinking that Mellark's a good guy."

She swivels her head to stare at me. "Am I speaking to Gale Hawthorne?" she asks incredulously.

"In fact," I continue, ignoring this, "it'd be better if he were easier to hate."

She lets out a soft chuckle. "Tell me about it. If I could've just hated him in the arena, we all wouldn't be in this mess now. He'd be dead, and I'd be a happy little victor all by myself."

_He'd be dead._ Like I imagined more than a few times. "And where we would be, Katniss?" Would we really be living a happy-ever-after, like we did in the scenarios that played out in my head?

Somehow I don't think so.

Katniss doesn't look at me. "Hunting. Like every Sunday."

We fall into an awkward silence. I wait for the disappointment to come with her vague answer, but there's none. Because what Katniss doesn't even realize as truth, I've known deep inside all along. If Mellark were here I'd shove it in his face. I'd say_, Mellark, you're truly an idiot. So you actually believe if you die in the Quell, Katniss will jump into my arms. Ha. You're going to die a hero for nothing, moron._

Mellark-in-my-head glowers. _And the alternative? You'd rather Katniss die?_

Stop_. _I need to stop thinking. I need a distraction.

Katniss must share my sentiment, because right then she goes, in a much lighter tone, "Good news, by the way."

The Capitol's canceling the Quell? That'd be good news. Too-good-to-be-true news. But I keep the bitterness out to the best of my ability and say, "There is?"

Katniss glances at me. Is that a smile? "Next Sunday there's no training. No snare lessons. You get a break."

That's got me curious. Mellark would never agree to a break. He's so determined about training like Careers, he's probably been doing push-ups in his sleep. "Why?"

"Have you forgotten?" Katniss really is smiling, a genuine smile, not one of those fake ones she plasters for the cameraman. "It's Prim's birthday party."

The discomfort, the tension, the bitterness the anger... all of it disappears at once. _This is good news._ Birthday parties were unheard of in the Seam. No amount of poaching could ever scrape by a cake for Prim. Only now, for the first year of Prim's, Katniss's, or _my_ life, money isn't an issue. "Her thirteenth. That's a big deal."

"Yup. Trust me," says Katniss, a glimmer in her eye that probably hasn't been there since she was six, "it's going to be a big deal. We're making it big."

I fight down a laugh. "Oh? What's the plan?"

"So far..." Katniss pauses for dramatic effect. "Lots of balloons, streamers, and a cake this tall," she holds her hand shoulder-height. "Peeta's taking care of that. Oh, and a hundred presents," adds Katniss on afterthought.

"Sounds... phenomenal," I decide.

"It shall be," says Katniss, mimicking Effie Trinket's lofty air.

Just watching Katniss, I can smile all night. "Am I invited to this phenomenal party?"

"What do you think?" She holds out her hand, ticking off fingers. "You and, let's see... My mother, your mother, Rory, Vick, Posy, Peeta, Madge, maybe Haymitch - Prim likes him, beats me why - and Prim's friends Agatha and Christie. That's... how many, ten? Eleven including me."

Wait.

"Madge?" Her name slips out of my tongue before I realize what I'm even saying.

"Of course. She's been helping us a lot, sneaking us her dad's Capitol papers. Prim likes her too."

I don't answer.

"Gale," Katniss sighs, and the playfulnes is gone from her. Gone is a Katniss who looks her age. "How many times do I have to tell you? She's my friend. She's smart and funny and nice. Not all people from town are bad. Like Peeta. You admitted it yourself."

That's right. Katniss doesn't know.

She doesn't even know that Madge and I have met outside of strawberry deliveries. I picture her face if I tell her that Madge and I are actually... friends. That I actually believe Katniss - no, agree with her. That I know Madge isn't only smart or funny or nice - she's also tough and stubborn and mischevious and warm and cheerful and sad. And a million other things.

If I tell her that... Katniss would be pleased. She always scolded me whenever I called Madge a spoiled merchant brat. She might even say "I told you so" and rub it in my face.

I'm about to say, _Er- yeah, I know. I don't mind Madge... _but for some reason, I hesitate. Maybe because, like Thom said, I'm a proud git and I don't like to admit I'm wrong. Maybe because...

Who knows. But Katniss, unaware of this, already moves on. "Help me think of a gift idea. Should we get another Lady? Or better yet, a husband for Lady?"

As Katniss discusses the possibility of goat babies, I'm not thinking about cakes or balloons or the Goat Man. As town comes into view, I'm wondering which of the bright yellow squares belongs to the room Madge is in. The last time I saw her, she said she wanted to be alone, needed to think about some things. I wonder if she still is.

But I'll see her next week at Prim's party. I'll respect her wishes until then. But if next week she's still upset, I'm not walking away until I get answers. And if those answers say some douche really did break her heart, I'll be sure to break his face.


	14. 14

**This was difficult to write… Dunno if I pulled it off realistically enough, but I think I am pretty satisfied with it.**

* * *

**14**

"You're just in time," Katniss says, ushering us inside, her face brighter than I've ever seen. "Is that for Prim?" She turns to me, scowling. "Gale, I thought we talked about this. _I_ get the presents, _you_ just show up."

"Tell that to Rory. It's from him."

"Gale!" sputters my brother. "You're lying!"

"Katniss, dear," says my mother wryly as she pushes a beet-red Rory along, "remind me how long we've known each other?" She sniffs the air. "Now, if you excuse me, I have to go find your mother in the kitchen so I can finally unearth the secret to her recipes."

"Hazelle," says Katniss, shaking her head, but her lip's twitching.

A spiel of giggles sound and I glimpse Prim running by, tracking dirt all over the floor. At last putting the shiny marble surface to good use. "Prim, slow down!" calls Katniss. She got a "Tag! You're it!" for a response; and then all hell breaks loose as we're engulfed in a tide of pre-adolescents.

Mellark saves us with a soccer ball under his arm. "Who wants to play?" It takes him three minutes to charm over the Capitol audience; it won't take him much longer to charm over kids. Already, Posy tries to climb over him and screams when he lifts her on his back. Haymitch then swaggers in and roars, "YOU ROWDY BRATS QUIET DOWN!" only to be tackled by Rory and Vick.

"So uncivilized," says Katniss, smirking.

"Not like us," I agree.

There's so many smiles going around that it's getting contagious. Mine is probably going to freeze on my face. But who the hell cares? For this one day we get to forget everything - or at least push it away - and be happy for Prim. And we are.

Just then, the doorbell rings. "That must be Madge," says Katniss, brightening again. "Hold on."

When she opens the door, I stay at the edge of the foyer, waiting for Madge's quiet "hello."

But that's not what I got.

"Hi, Katniss! I like your dress! You really should wear bright colors more, you know." Madge flounces inside, grinning widely and flashing her dimples. "I love the balloons, by the way. Where do I put the gift for Prim? Oh actually, where _is_ the Birthday Girl?"

Katniss laughs. "You're excited today, Madge."

"Of course I am! I mean, what's not to..." She sees me. "Hi, Gale."

The pause is miniscule, and she glides over it smoothly. When she speaks my name, her smile never leaves her face, the warmth in her voice never slips a notch.

"Prim's in the back, Madge," Katniss is saying now, and Madge - again, naturally and smoothly - turns her gaze away.

"Is that soccer? That looks fun. Katniss, wanna join? Come on, it'll be just like gym class in the old days." Laughing, she loops her arm around Katniss and the two of them walks to the gym. I watch them go. Madge is back to her cheery self. She's happy for Prim, like I am, like we all are.

Except that isn't true. Something's still off, and I know I'm not imagining it. And the reason I know this?

Madge never looked me in the eye.

x

By the time we've cut the cake, I know there's no _way_ I can be imagining it.

Madge Undersee is breaking underneath.

No one else seems to notice. Katniss, of course, sees no one except her sister; she keeps reaching over and touching Prim on the elbow, on the shoulder, and I know she's just memorizing enough of Prim to last her through the Quell (because damn it, she's coming back). Mellark's preoccupied with distangling himself from his newest fan, Posy (a losing battle if I ever saw one); any free time he has is devoted to staring at Katniss. Loverboy, indeed. The rest of the party attendees are equally preoccupied with shoving cake in the mouth and shoving gifts at Prim to open. My mother and Mrs. Everdeen are watching this and growing misty-eyed over tea; Haymitch is nowhere to be seen, but last I saw him he was holding something suspicious behind his back and swaying on his feet. Mellark's too busy today to be watching him like a hawk, so no doubt Haymitch is taking advantage of his newfound freedom somewhere out of the radar.

Madge taps Katniss on the shoulder, mouthes something apologetically. Katniss looks ready to argue but then one of Prim's friends tugs her arm, whining about where's the bathroom. That's my cue.

I grab Madge's wrist before she reaches for the doorknob.

"What's up, Gale?" she asks, smiling. "Not a fan of cake?"

It's a smile that doesn't reach her eyes, which still aren't meeting mine. They're on my face, but trained to the right. Like she's focusing on the edge of my cheekbone instead.

"You tell me what's up," I say quietly.

"I don't-"

"Madge, quit forcing yourself. You can't fool me."

The smile slides off, slowly. She pulls at her wrist. I grip it tighter.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispers.

"I'm worried."

"About what?"

"About _you_."

"What's there to worry about? I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Then look me in the eye."

She glances up, but only fleetingly. It's still enough. Enough for me to see it.

"I'm right, aren't I?" I ask her. "_Madge_."

She doesn't reply.

"Tell me- is this about a guy?"

She still doesn't reply, but stops struggling.

"So it is." _Thom was right._ I don't know what to think of it, or why I suddenly want to punch someone. "Who?"

With one final tug she breaks out of my grasp, pushes open the door and runs out. The message is clear, but I refuse to take it. Before she can get off Katniss's front porch, I've gripped her arm and spun her around.

"Madge, _answer me._"

"You don't want to know."

"Try me."

"You really don't, Gale," she says, more softly, staring behind me, her eyes vacant and dazed.

The door's still open, so from out here we can hear the noise from inside. Someone's shouting for another slice of cake. _Cake_. Suddenly it clicks. Why Madge looks so hurt, why she'd sooner die than tell me what's going on, why she's been plastering on the fake smile and fake laugh all day-

"Is it Mellark? Is that who it is?" I can't believe it. _Mellark_. But it makes sense. He's from town, like she is. He's her age. They were in the same class-

"_Peeta? _You think it's Peeta?" Her laugh is sharp, derisive, and I flinch. Her eyes finally flash to meet mine, and there's something suddenly wild about them. "Fine, you really want to know?"

I bristle at her tone. "_Yes_."

Madge advances a step closer. We're inches apart and I can count every freckle, every eyelash. "Then I'll tell you who this guy is. Let's see if you can guess him." Her eyes are blazing with fury now and I find I can't look away. "He's rude and harsh and for the longest time he writes me off as a spoiled little mayor's brat even though he knew _nothing_ about me. But I didn't blame him, I knew he only acted that way because he's angry, angry at the world, at life, for taking his dad away, for making him and his family suffer when they never did anything wrong. I didn't blame him but I wished - just wished - he could've given me a chance to show I _understood_, that I _wanted_ to understand. So I tried- I tried to make him see who I am, tried to be his friend, and it worked, he really started treating me like a human being. And it felt like a dream, I thought I wouldn't want anything else, it was all too good to be true... But I was wrong, I was greedy, and it got painful to even _look_ at him. Just because every time I did, it's too obvious he'll always be thinking about someone else in a way he'll never think about _me_. And I hated myself for feeling like that because the girl he _does_ belong with is my friend, too, and I know I'm awful to even have thoughts like these in the first place... And it's probably better if he was just a stranger again, because at least then-" Madge covers her face. "I don't know... I don't even know what to feel anymore. All I know is, I was keeping it under control until now." She drops her hands and draws a shaky breath. "Happy, Gale? Now do you know who I'm talking about?" She turns away from me, clenching and unclenching the folds of her dress.

We're both silent. Distantly, I can still hear the laughter from the house. A world away.

"Don't look at me," say Madge, her voice hardening. "I don't want your pity."

"Madge," I say. But I can't continue.

The anger's gone out of her now, and her shoulders sag. They've never seemed so small. She turns and looks at me, the blue of her eyes ocean-deep. "You probably don't remember this, but... seven years ago, you were with some of your friends when you saw me crying on the street. When you walked by you said, 'Only weaklings cry.' Not the best pep talk but I took it. I never cried again." She smiles, but it's not a bitter one this time. It does reach her eyes, even if they're sad eyes. "I won't cry this time either. It's just a silly crush. I'll prove it to you, I'll get over it. So- don't look at me like that. Please."

"Madge-"

"You heard me," she says, stepping back. "Please don't."

Then she's walking away, blue ribbon swishing in her hair, her hands clasped gently at her back. It's only that small detail - her hands clasped together, her clean pink nails barely visible the further she walks - that kept me from going after her. Because if I did, what would I say? I still don't _know_.

The weakness in my knees might also have something to do with it.

I sink down onto the porch step, raking my hair, pressing my knuckles against my forehead. _Shit_. Then I laugh. Because it's pretty funny, you know. The irony.

_Now someone just needs to break my face for me._

There's a rustle, then footsteps. A pair of feet come into view. Perfect timing.

A gruff, dry voice. "Looks like you need a drink."

The bloody brawl can wait a few minutes. Wordlessly, I reach over and accept the bottle from Haymitch.

"You heard the whole thing?" I ask, even though I knew.

"Was enjoying my time in the bushes," he says lazily. "Felt compelled to stay when things got interesting." He takes a swig from his bottle; I do the same from mine. "So, what are you going to do?"

He cuts to the chase, huh. I don't answer. He pulls the Haymitch Sneer.

"Ah. Our Cousin Gale needs some advice, does he?"

I tell him to fuck off. He just barks a short laugh and lowers himself down onto the step next to me, a surprisingly steady motion.

"Alright, I'll help you out. But don't think I'm doing this for you. I'm doing this for the niece." Here Haymitch mutters something I barely catch. Something about a "debt" to "repay." Then, glancing at me, twists his lips grimly and continues:

"This mayor's lassie, if you'd believe it, she's the bravest one out of all you kiddies. That's 'cause she told you the truth. Granted, she had to be provoked into doing it, but still." He shrugs. "So it's damn clear to me what you gotta do. Return the favor. Tell her the truth... once you sort it out yourself. You owe her that, and that's the only thing she really needs from you."

He salvages the remaining drops of his bottle, all the while watching me closely.

"You know what, we should've talked sooner. You and I are quite similar," he says, rubbing his beard. "Although... I'd say I was never _that_ dense at your age. Yeah, yeah, save the glare for another time. Hey, someone's calling you. Your mom?"

I glance behind me. "Sounds like it," I grunt.

Haymitch gets to his feet, tottering just a little bit, and reaches out a hand. I ignore his outreached hand and stand up on my own.

"Now what is it about cold-hearted Seam boys that attract girls like her?" he drawls, giving me an once-over. "Must run in her blood. G'luck, at any rate," he says, and I watch him saunter his way back towards his house, waving a hand unceremoniously. Haymitch. He's a weird one.

As I head back to the party, my brain kind of sluggish. Probably because of the alcohol. But I'm grateful for the sluggishness. Once my head clears up, there will be a lot of thinking to look forward to. A lot of sorting out the truth to do.

* * *

**I hope I succeeded with my little HayMay hints, heh heh. **

**Any thoughts? Hopefully, Madge's rant was not too OOC. I debated for a long time how Gale should find out, and I ended with Madge directly telling him, but only when she was pushed past breaking point. The childhood encounter with Gale might be a bit cliché, but I needed something to explain, "Why Gale?" other than his dashing good looks and surly attitude. xD (Sorry, Gale, you always get bashed somehow)**


End file.
